I'll have a big Mac and fries to go before I go

The Blockbuster video company has just completed a survey which asked people: 'What would you do if the world was ending tomorrow?' It is intended to publicise some doom film or other, but seems delightfully timely in the wake of the American election.

Marginally more frightening than the possibility of imminent global apocalypse is the news of how people would spend Doom Eve. No doubt, Blockbuster bigwigs were hoping for the answer: 'Watch videos.' That one doesn't feature, but the top 10 responses aren't much better.

In 7th place is: 'Tell my loved ones how much I love them.' A touching sentiment. And it's a mere five places behind: 'Give my mother-in-law a piece of my mind', which came in second. If only Les Dawson were alive for this glorious moment in human history.

In 8th place: 'Drive an expensive sports car.' That's terribly worrying. Eighth place means a lot of voters and they can't all play for Manchester United. I am struggling with the image of a doomed man shouting: 'For the love of God, that's a mushroom cloud; somebody bring me a Lexus!'

Coming 9th is the ever-popular option: 'Go somewhere hot.' Under those circumstances, I shouldn't bother - it'll come to you.

In top spot, most popular answer to 'What would you do if the world was ending tomorrow?' is the curious 'Resign from work'. I suppose it's good to know that even in moments of extreme crisis, we would remain sufficiently well-mannered to observe professional formalities. ('Dear Mr Smith, I have greatly enjoyed my time in your employ but...')

Respondents were also asked where they would spend their last day (assuming it couldn't be the front seat of a Lexus). Staying at home was the most popular option, followed by the pub and the beach. Eighth choice was 'Nightclub'.

Several hundred people would devote their final hours to jigging on a sweaty dance floor and leaning against a noisy bar shouting: 'No, I asked about your star sign. Star sign. STAR SIGN!'

Is that how you would spend your last day on earth? I wouldn't do it if I were immortal.

Fifth most popular final location was 'the shops'. Lovely. Do you suppose there would be looting? I bet there would. Most of us might realise that with only 24 hours left alive, we would have little use for three DVD players and a Breville. But you've got to reckon that at least a few people would think: 'It may not happen. In which case, what an investment.'

One depressing category, and not just for grammatical reasons, is: 'Who would you spend your last day with?' Fifth most popular answer: 'Pets.' The very thought made me want to kill myself immediately. I don't even have pets. I'd be out looting the zoo.

But it could have been worse; you normally see celebrity names in this kind of survey. I'm amazed that 90 per cent of the British public didn't opt for spending their final hours with Chris Evans.

The most straightforward category is: 'What would you eat for your last meal?' The results are a simple list: 'Chips... cake... curry... McDonald's.' Nothing special, then; that's what the British eat every day anyway. Our main problem may be the assumption that the people who work at McDonald's are going to turn up. ('I know the world's ending tomorrow, but I'm finally on £1.70 an hour.')

We have always asked questions like this about the end of the world. It's a game we love as kids and never outgrow. But as adults, I think it is less about the fear of apocalypse than the fantasy of a life without consequences. 'What would you do with one last day?' is a cunningly disguised version of 'What do you consider to be rebellious?'

This isn't a bad way to litmus-test where you're up to in life, compared with your teenage self. Ask yourself what you would do with that day - I bet the limits of your grown-up imagination will come as a salutary shock.

I may have smirked at those who dreamt no bigger than insulting the mother-in-law or eating fatty food, but my first thought, and not without some excitement, was: 'Ooh, I could park on a double yellow line in Soho.'

Following recent gossip about the Spectator's editor Boris Johnson, critics have dubbed his magazine 'the Sextator'. Rod Liddle's estranged wife describes it as: 'Party, party, party, and people falling out after too much drink.'